I've spent the last 6 months or so filling time at work by reading blogs. It started when a friend sent me a post from Mimi Smartypants. I spent the rest of the month reading her blog from start to finish. I was surprised by how much I liked reading her entries. I'd always wondered why other people would be interested in reading a stranger's journal. Her writing was witty and smart and she dealt with questions I find myself dealing with. Suddenly I saw the value of reading about other people's struggles: they make me feel a little less insane and alone. I like to see how other people have solved their problems and the new ones they encountered as they strode down new paths--paths I'm sure I'll find myself on someday. It was like having someone walk into the scary, dark cave ahead of me, leaving little lights and notes of encouragement and advice as they went along. The world suddenly felt a lot smaller and I took comfort in that. Mimi's links led me to other links and to bloggers like Dooce, Jonniker, Lawyerish, Nothing but Bonfires, Fussy, Finslippy, and so many other talented women writers. I discovered through them a new way of being creative and open and honest. Frankly, it was inspiring. It seemed pretty pointless for me to start yet another blog, these women had done it all so well, it felt like I would either be a bad imitator or sad wannabe. But maybe writing will help me sort through the thoughts that circle my mind on a daily basis. Maybe I'll write something that will make someone else feel a little more normal. Or maybe this will be another blog that just gathers dust in the ether. We'll see.
All I know is that there is something within me screaming to be a writer. I never admit it to anyone because I don't think I would ever be any good at it, but it's what I wish for myself. But the wishing and doing are two such terribly different things. I hate to be alone. I lose energy and momentum and start getting depressed. Being a writer seems like the most lonely of professions. I don't think I have any natural talent. I feel like I don't have anything new to say. I hate the empty screen because it makes me feel like a failure. But I yearn for a creative outlet. I desire to be worthy. I want to inspire and comfort and amuse people. I want to send shivers down people's spines, make them laugh out loud as they sit at work, strike so close to someone's truth that they have the urge to write to me. This is what other writers have given me--what an extraordinary thing to touch someone you've never met, to have them relate to your thoughts and experiences, no matter the distance.
This all sounds so terribly self-centered and overly self-indulgent and more serious than I intended. But I don't want to censor myself. And so, with this, I've solved for X. This is how I start a blog.
